Gemotions

"Look, honey!" Mark pointed, his voice rising in pitch. The yard sale was a blur of discarded furniture and unwanted trinkets. Then he saw it: his old pal, Bartholomew, tucked away on a dusty shelf.

He hurried toward the bear, his steps almost a skip. He was practically vibrating with a feeling that was close to exploding. The familiar feel of the worn fabric calmed him. The woman behind the table noticed his enthusiasm and laughed.

"Find a friend?" she asked. He just nodded, speechless with delight, and started fishing in his pocket for cash.